


TAKING CONTROL

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Red Cap (TV)
Genre: Adulting, Angst, M/M, Mushy cuddles, death scare, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: Giles’s happy, fulfilled domestic relationship with Thomas is suddenly shattered by a phone call and he has decisions to make. The state of team politics has left Sgt Major Burns with his own decisions.





	TAKING CONTROL

**Author's Note:**

> Follows along with story begun in To Thine Own Self, but all of the SIB team do NOT know about Giles and Thomas. Same pet names they gave each other, but in this situation I drop the first part of Giles’s pet name to just “bunny” for reasons which should be obvious as re plot. 
> 
> German Lessons:  
> Bitte - please  
> Bumsen - fuck  
> Danke, dank - thank you.  
> Engel - angel  
> Ich liebe dich so sehr, Thomas. Dein Hase ist hier  
> \- I love you so much. Your bunny is here.
> 
> geile Hase - horny bunny
> 
> Gute Nacht, Hase. Suße Träume  
> \- Good night, bunny. Sweet dreams.
> 
> Hase - bunny  
> Herz - heart  
> Ich brauche dich - I need you  
> Ich liebe dich - I love you  
> Kuschelbär - cuddly bear  
> Kuss mich - kiss me  
> liebe, lieber, liebling - dear, sweet(ie), love  
> Liebste - dearest  
> Liebe machen - make love  
> Mein/meine - my  
> schätz(i) - treasure  
> suße,Sußer - sweet  
> Viel - a lot of  
> Vielen Dank - than you very much

Sargeant Major Kenny Burns stepped to the door of his office and looked out into the room. SS Frost was on the phone, and as usual Mr Vicary was deep into the internet working on a case. Everyone else was out in the field.

“Mr Vicary - a word please.” The dark head came up, looking over at him. For a split second, Burns caught the ‘what did I do now?’ look in his eyes, but it was quickly cut off, replaced by a schooled half-smile of indeterminate emotion.

It was, Burns thought, a bit of a minefield having the young officer in their midst. He was a superior officer in name only at this stage in his career, and that was rough on him and not easy for the rest of the team either. The younger man deserved the respect of his rank, but in the day to day he seldom got it due to his inexperience. This wasn’t helped by the dog-eat-dog mindset of some of the members of the unit, every man or woman for themselves and screw whoever they had to climb over to get there, Vicary included.

He was a public school gentleman in a sea of working class career soldiers who had already put in their time, paid their dues. It was difficult, and in some ways unfair, but Vicary had to learn to deal with such situations if he planned on an Army career. He managed pretty well, Burns conceded. He rarely lost his temper, and was improving his ability to bite his tongue when he would once have spoken out of turn or without sufficient data or thought. He was mostly even-tempered about the grunt work he was assigned.

He was learning, as Burns continued to learn about him. There weren’t any marks against Vicary as far as he was concerned. Protocol within a unit of experienced NCOs was a slippery slope, and he was learning when to keep his mouth shut and when to let things go as well as when to make himself heard. These were lessons every soldier needed to master.

Of course, there was also the fact that Burns would literally be dead if Vicary hadn’t kept his hands on him, staunching his potentially fatal wound after he’d been shot in the aborted bank robbery. That sort of thing wasn’t supposed to figure in to how he regarded his people, but it could hardly not. Vicary could have let him die; other men would have, men he’d had under his command at one time or other.

“Yes, Sar’ Major?”

“Sit down, Mr Vicary,” Burns invited, sitting himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. Vicary regarded him expectantly.

“I’ve just had a phone call from the civilian trauma center. Thomas Strauss has been shot. He’s in emergency surgery now.”

Vicary went white as a sheet. “How is - is he - going to - “

“I don’t think they know at this point. They called here because this was the number listed as belonging to his Person To Notify. And that is apparently you, Mr Vicary.”

Vicary swallowed. “Yes, Sar’ Major.”

“You were aware?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to your father, may I then assume that Mr Strauss is listed as _your_ PTN?” Burns asked.

“With respect, Sar’ Major, that’s not - “

“It’s easy to retrieve the record, Mr Vicary.”

“Yes, Sar’ Major. He is.”

Well. This was a surprise. Never been a clue, Burns thought. And Thomas Strauss, of all people.

“I’ll have Staff Frost drive you to the hospital.” Vicary looked horrified.

“Please don’t do that, Sar’ Major. I’ll drive myself. I’m fine.”

Burns sighed to himself. He didn’t blame Vicary; he and Frost bumped along, but did not exactly have a warm and fuzzy relationship. Nor would Frosty likely be able to avoid letting her thoughts be known, whatever they might be. The man didn’t need that added to his stress.

“Right. I’ll drive then.” The expression on Vicary’s face was equally distressed.

“Sar’ Major, you really don’t need to - “

“Yes, Mr Vicary, I do. You’re not in a state of mind to be thinking about traffic. I’d do it for anyone here under similar circumstances. I’ll get Sar’ Hornsby to bring your car over later.”

“Thank you Sar’ Major.” Vicary had decided to give in gracefully.

Burns told Frost he was going out and that Vicary would be with him. He narrowed his eyes at the questions in hers, and said nothing more. What the hell had he been thinking to inflict her on Vicary at such a stressful time.

In the car, didn’t know what to say to Vicary. He had to tread carefully. There wasn’t much he could say, since Strauss’s condition was unknown. They had said critical, but he wasn’t going to tell Vicary that.

“Does Det Strauss have family nearby?” he asked.

“I don’t believe so - not very near, that I’m aware of. Since he hasn’t spoken of any, I think perhaps not,” Vicary responded. Glancing down, Burns noticed that his knuckles were white.

Traffic wasn’t heavy into Brandenburg, and they made good time to the trauma center. Burns parked the car and moved to get out with Vicary, who withdrew into himself as soon as he realized Burns intended to accompany him.

“Sar’ Major, I’ll be fine. On my own.” His voice was as firm, possibly as challenging, as Burns had ever heard it.

“Mr Vicary. I’m not doing this out of some desire to probe into what’s none of my business in your private life. But you don’t know what you’re going to hear when you walk in there. You just might need some support. As I said earlier, I would do the same for any of my team,” Burns reminded him.

Vicary looked at him, and his shoulders dropped a little. “Thank you, Sar’ Major,” he relented. He looked more than a little lost.

It took time to find the doctors who had worked on Strauss on his arrival, and they needed to check his status before speaking to Vicary and Burns. Det Strauss was still in surgery. He was receiving blood, as he had lost a considerable amount. The bullet had lodged close to his heart, which was never a good thing. But he’d been brought to the hospital quickly, stabilized and rushed into surgery. As their trauma surgeons were excellent, there was a fair chance he would recover. Even so, there was the matter of his healthcare wishes. Was Mr Vicary prepared to verify and sign what he knew Det Strauss’s end-of-life wishes to be?

He nodded. They brought him the papers and he read and signed them, his hand shaking slightly. Burns saw tears in his eyes that he knew Vicary was willing not to fall. So, no longer any chance they were just good friends.

Strauss would not be out of surgery for another half hour or so, and then he would be carefully monitored in the recovery room until he was stable enough to be brought to Intensive Care - where Mr Vicary could see him. That was all that could be said for now.

“You need some coffee,” Burns announced. He asked directions to the hospital café and steered Vicary there. He brought two large cups of coffee to a table, and they sat.

“It sounds as if they’re hopeful,” he ventured.

“It sounds like what they tell every PTN, no matter what the situation really is. They could know he’s dying right now and they would only tell me he’s dead when he’s gone. I wouldn’t even get to see him,” Vicary muttered pessimistically.

“We talked about it, after you were shot. He thought I might have been shot as well, and he went a little crazy about that. I could only tell him that I worried about him too. We both know it comes with the job. But when it actually happens, you could never imagine what it’s really like.” Vicary fell silent after that, intent on his coffee and in not meeting Burns’s eye.

The Sergeant Major knew he couldn’t ask any personal questions. Whatever was said or revealed had to come from Vicary, and so far he’d been relentlessly private, and wisely so; Burns respected that. He had no idea if anyone else knew anything about Vicary’s relationship with Strauss, but if anyone did know it would be Bruce Hornsby. Burns wondered if he should get him down here. Even if he didn’t know, he was sure Vicary would rather be sitting here with Bruce than with him.

People management was always the most difficult, and at the same time the most important part of running a successful team. Burns knew he used to be good at it - used to be compassionate and aware of what was going on with his people. The last few years though, as he crawled towards the mandatory decision of either retirement or promotion, the people he’d been given and the situations they’d created had become a muddy moral swamp. He had to include himself in the muck, of course.

Vicary would be a valuable member of any SIB team one day, if he was allowed to learn and grow; he had good instincts that just needed to be honed by experience, and the same bulldog tenacity that McDonough had. When he went after something, he stayed with it and wouldn’t be shaken. That he had landed in the middle of a cross between a snake pit and a soap opera was no fault of his. And then to have this come down on his head - it was a doubly hard blow with no one to turn to. Burns suspected he was a private person regardless, his personal situation and the fraternization issue only adding to his isolation and his desire to keep mum about his personal life.

“I want to see him,” Vicary’s voice shook slightly.

“I’m sure they’ll let you see him when he’s stable,” was all Burns could say.

“And if he never stabilizes? Will I never see him alive again? Will he never know I was there?”

It was painful for Burns to realize that his wife and daughter had gone through exactly this when he’d been shot. Being unconscious then had been the easy part.

“He’s there for me. He’s become my rock,” Vicary revealed. “I never dreamed how hard this was. I don’t know if I can - “

“Of course you can. When you care about someone, you give them all you’ve got. You’ll do that,” Burns assured him. He believed it too, judging by Vicary’s obvious emotional attachment to Strauss.

Vicary’s phone rang, and he answered it immediately. He listened for a minute or so, then said “thank you, doctor,” and hung up. He got the phone back in his pocket, his hand still shaking clumsily.

“He’s going to be taken to Intensive Care soon. I can see him in an hour. He’s holding his own so far. It’s just…wait, until he regains consciousness - if he does,” Vicary sighed.

“You should try and eat something. You might be in for a long night,” Burns encouraged him, but was not surprised when he seemed not to hear. Few would be able to eat under the circumstances. “I’ll have Sar’ Hornsby bring your car, and call you. Call if you have any news, or you need anything. You’re on leave as of this morning.”

“Thank you, Sar’ Major.” Vicary gave him a small smile, and a nod.

Now, Giles thought in a bit of a quiet panic, he had no one. He hadn’t thought he wanted Burns there, but the man had been a supportive presence and now that was gone and he was on his own. He had to pull himself together and face the situation. Downing the last of his coffee, he went into the men’s room and washed his face and hands, tried not to look in the mirror, and tried not to think too much.

He went upstairs to the ICU, identified himself and checked in, then sat down to wait until he was told him he could see Thomas. It seemed to take forever, so it was hard not to think about all the what ifs, whether he tried to block them out or not. He reminded himself that Thomas had made it through surgery alive, and lived still. He clung to the thought.

“Mr Vicary? Come with me please.”

Thomas was hooked to so many pieces of machinery, with needles and tubes everywhere, that Giles was afraid for a moment he wasn’t alive, that they had brought him in because Thomas had died. His color was not good, a sort of gray tinged with blue. But the machines whirred and chimed and ticked and beeped, and the heart monitor above his bed showed a rhythm.

They brought him a chair, but Giles couldn’t sit immediately. He needed to see the rise and fall of Thomas’s chest, the twitch of an eyelid; needed to see him demonstrating life. He was afraid to touch him, but desperate to do so. He leaned over the bed and pressed his lips to Thomas’s forehead, smoothing his hair lightly.

“ _Ich liebe dich so sehr, Thomas. Dein Hase ist hier,_ ” Giles choked. He couldn’t lose Thomas. He couldn’t.

He kissed and petted Thomas as much as he dared, and only reluctantly sat. He pulled the chair up as close to the bed as possible. Still afraid to disturb anything, he eventually lay his head against Thomas’s hand and arm to feel his warmth, carefully holding his hand.

Nurses, doctors and technicians came and went, for the most part not disturbing or taking much notice of him. They were used to this, used to the need the devastated loved ones had to stay close and maintain contact; they let him be and were kind. Giles dozed sometimes, oblivious to the voices and the commotion in the ICU. Whenever he woke, his eyes went immediately to Thomas’s face.

He had not regained consciousness, but there were hopeful signs, the staff pointed out to him. Thomas twitched and moved a little. His vital signs were a little stronger. He could perhaps hear them.

Giles continued to tell Thomas he loved him, over and over and in half a dozen ways, and that he was there and wasn’t going to leave. He had no idea of the passage of time; he was so intent on Thomas that he didn’t register multiple shift changes or different staff.

He had been dozing when something woke him. As he came back to consciousness he supposed it was a nurse, jostling him in caring for Thomas. Slowly, he realized it was Thomas’s fingers moving against his cheek. He got up, holding Thomas’s fingers, trying not to touch the IV in his hand.

“Thomas? Thomas, _meine Liebste,_ can you open your eyes?” _Bitte_ , Thomas. _Ich brauche dich_.”

His heart in his throat, he watched Thomas struggle to swim out of the fog. Giles leaned over and pressed his lips to Thomas’s forehead, and softly to his mouth.

“Come back to me, _liebe_ ,” he whispered. Thomas’s hazel eyes slowly blinked open, unfocused at first but ultimately registering Giles in his line of sight.

“ _Hase_ ,” he croaked.

“Thomas,” Giles sighed deeply. A small bit of warmth began to creep into his limbs. The weight on his chest he hadn’t been aware of until now lifted a little. He caressed Thomas as best he could, frustrated at his inability to actually hold him. Something set the monitors off even so, because a nurse and then a doctor came in and asked Thomas a few questions, which he responded to fuzzily. They were then left alone again.

“Do you want some water?” Giles asked, seeing a small pitcher and glass. Thomas nodded. Giles supported his head and held the glass for him as he drank.

“Better,” he sighed, his voice less raspy.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Giles asked. Thomas closed his eyes and nodded.

“It means I’m alive, _meine Hase._ ”

“I’ve been scared to death,” Giles admitted. “I still am.” Thomas squeezed his hand a little and gave him a small smile.

“I’m a tough old man,” he whispered. The effort to speak tired him, as did simply breathing. It stood to reason, considering where the bullet had gone, how much blood he’d lost, and the extent of his surgery.

“You should sleep, Thomas. Don’t try to stay awake for me. I might go get some tea, but I’ll be here,” Giles told him. Thomas’s eyes were already closing. He sat for awhile, relieved to know that Thomas was asleep and not unconscious. He checked his phone, which he’d turned off, and saw that an entire day and more had passed. Bruce had brought his car yesterday and left the key with the ICU staff. He also saw that Bruce had called him only 10 minutes before. He hurriedly texted ‘coming out now’. He told the nurse he would be back within the hour, and opened the door into the hallway.

He saw Hornsby, and realized that Sar’ Major Burns was with him. He was almost to them when he began to feel rubber-legged, and slightly dizzy. His vision under the bright lights started to narrow, and he only had time to think an obscenity before his legs gave out and his vision went black, a cold sweat washing over him.

“Sir,” he heard Bruce call, and for a moment thought Hornsby was talking to him. Arms steadied him and pulled him into a chair. He felt a hand on the back of his neck, holding his head down.

Gradually his sight cleared, though he still felt woozy. Every time he tried to raise his head, it was held firmly where it was.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink since I left you, Mr Vicary?”  
  
_Oh bloody hell._

“No.”

_Shit. I left off the ‘Sar’ Major’._

“Right. Sar’ Hornsby, maybe you can get some tea and a cup of soup or something, and bring it back here.”

“Sir.”

“What news of Det Strauss, Mr Vicary?”

“He woke up a little while ago.”

“Good news, then. Right - pick your head up s-l-o-w-l-y,” Burns cautioned. Giles did as instructed, until he could sit upright without feeling too dizzy. He cautiously opened his eyes and the waiting lounge swam into view.

“I’m sorry, Sar’ Major,” he sighed. He felt more tired than he could ever remember feeling. He wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, but he was sure he must’ve said or done something to apologize for at some point. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone being angry with him just now. That Burns was even there made him vaguely uncomfortable, but he recognized that like it or not, it was a good thing that he and Bruce happened to be there; otherwise he might have gone out cold on the floor, and that would certainly have caused a commotion he could do without.

“Easy does it, Mr Vicary. No worries,” Burns responded, laying a hand between his shoulders. There was no censure in his voice. The kindness made Giles want to cry. Suddenly, everything was bringing him to the edge of tears; his nerves were quite raw.

Several minutes later Giles saw Hornsby get off the elevator with a small tray and a paper bag. He handed a cup of tea to Giles, who drank it down quickly. It was strong and very sweet; the standard remedy for whatever ailed you. He then consumed a container of some sort of chicken broth with noodles, and by the time he’d finished that he actually felt better. There was another cup of tea for good measure, and Giles didn’t protest.

“Better, sir?” Bruce asked. Giles nodded.

“Yes, Sar’ Hornsby. I just never thought about anything but Thomas. Thank you - both,” he acknowledged.

“There’s a sandwich, a chocolate bar and some Smarties in here,” Hornsby indicated the bag, which he handed to Giles. “Should keep you going for awhile.” Giles nodded, with a smile.

“How is he?” Hornsby asked.

“I thought - I thought he’d never wake up. I had no sense of time. I have no idea how long I’ve been with him. But he opened his eyes a while ago, and he knew me.” Giles closed his eyes and stopped for a moment because he knew he would tear up if he continued. “But everything exhausts him. He’s sleeping. I can’t stay away too long, I promised him I’d be there. He needs to see me when he wakes up again.” A note of anxiety crept into his voice.

Clearly, the emotional bond between Vicary and Strauss was strong. Burns couldn’t help thinking how welcome it would have been to have had someone who cared about him that much there after the shooting. He didn’t know if his wife had been this worried about him, so painfully attached; he doubted it.

“Are you okay?” Hornsby asked.

Giles shrugged. “I have to be.”

“You need to get some rest,” Hornsby told him.

“I need to be here for him,” Giles returned.

“Not if you crash your car on the way home or pass out from neglecting yourself,” Hornsby pushed. “No good to him then,” he reminded Giles.

“Yeh - I know. I’ll go home in a while. I will, honestly,” Giles assured him. At that point, Burns and Hornsby left. He wondered briefly if Burns would improperly question Bruce about his relationship with Thomas or not, and what Bruce would say if he did. He ought to care, but he wasn’t sure he could summon the energy.

When he returned to the ICU, Thomas alternated between sleep due to pain medication, and pain-laced consciousness. Giles was conflicted; he hated seeing Thomas in pain, but felt reassured when Thomas was looking at him and talking to him.

“What do you want me to bring you from home?”

“Shave,” was the response. The fewer words Thomas spoke, the more pain he was in, Giles observed.

“Of course, as long as it’s all right with the doctors. You’re on all these blood thinners,” he agreed cautiously. “Thomas - I don’t want you to try and stay awake to talk with me. I know you’re in a lot of pain. Perhaps I should go, and let them medicate you so you can rest, and heal. I don’t want to go,” he confessed. “I don’t want to leave you. But I think it’s better for you. I’ll be back tomorrow. Is that all right?” he ventured.

Thomas squeezed his hand. “ _Danke, Liebling,_ ” he whispered. _Kuss mich_?” Trying to keep hold of himself and not break down in front of Thomas, Giles smiled and nodded. He stood and kissed him on the mouth. It was a tender lover’s kiss, reminding both of them what they were to each other. Again, Giles touched him wherever he could without disturbing multiple lines or ports. He needed the touching more than Thomas did to reassure himself.

“ _Gute Nacht, Hase. Süße Träume._ ” Thomas smiled up at him.

Giles turned and left the ICU, blinking hard as he walked to where Hornsby had told him he’d left his car. He dug in his pocket for the key. When he put the key in the ignition, however, it all hit him.

Finally alone with his thoughts, his emotions overwhelmed him and the tears erupted; he couldn’t have stopped them. The terror he’d felt at Burns’s first words yesterday. His desperate need for privacy and his determination not to reveal too much. His fears and doubts about whether Thomas would live, and wondering how he would ever go on without him. His relief when Thomas woke, and his worsening fear that he wasn’t up to the task of taking charge and caring for him. Memories of a previous conversation when he’d promised Thomas he’d be there for him and fear that he’d muck it up.

He would do whatever it took, because he was needed and because he loved Thomas more than anything in the world. It was time to be a fully-functioning adult with responsibilities in an adult relationship. Giles blew his nose, shakily wiped his eyes, then started the car. The situation was frightening, but it was also strangely liberating. There wasn’t going to be anyone telling him he’d got it wrong.

He fell asleep at home on the sofa almost as soon as he sat down, waking some hours later with all the lights on. He forced himself to eat the sandwich Bruce had given him, made himself some tea, and drank it in bed before turning out the lights. It felt both strange and sad to be in their bed alone. He switched his pillow with Thomas’s, burying his face in it to find comfort in his partner’s familiar scent.

Giles woke at first light, unable to stay in bed any longer. He showered and changed his clothes, and picked up things he thought Thomas might want. He knew it was too early to go to the ICU, so he forced himself to have some tea and toast before he went up.

Thomas’s color was better, but he looked as if he was in pain. He was awake and aware enough to be a bit cross. He was very happy to see Giles, however, and made sure he knew it.

“They tell me I am improved, and so I must soon think of sitting out of bed and moving a little. The thought is not appealing.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Giles commiserated, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry it hurts so much. I wish there was more I could do.”

“You are here with me, _liebe Hase_. That’s all I want you to ‘do,’” Thomas assured him. “You will help me bear all of this,” he indicated the machinery and the staff bustling around drawing blood and generally being invasive. If he wasn’t perhaps as set on his privacy or independence as Giles, he certainly didn’t like being dependent on strangers in this way.

“I’ll be here as much as you want me to be,” Giles told him, kissing his cheek and his fingers. He was beginning to believe he wasn’t going to lose Thomas. Each day he looked stronger, Giles felt a little stronger too.

Time did pass, if slowly, and milestones were achieved. Thomas was removed to a unit where every single bodily function was no longer taken note of and measured, and gradually he was unhooked from machines and IVs one by one, made to walk the halls, and was medicated less. This, however, meant he was in pain. Giles hated seeing it, but it was also something Thomas wouldn’t hide from him now.

Thanks to Thomas, Giles had come to understand that feeling truly loved and cared for meant you didn’t need to hide anything from your partner - that you felt safe enough to let them see your pain, and the darker, less-perfect parts of you. Thomas had done this for him so naturally that he no longer thought about it; there was nothing Thomas didn’t know about him. Now, Thomas was revealing that he trusted Giles with all of himself too.

After he had been up and walking, or having some breathing therapy that was tiring and painful, Giles would quietly stand behind Thomas’s chair, massaging his head and shoulders to take his mind off the discomfort. It let him feel that he was doing something, at least. Giles didn’t just want to _appear_ useful, he honestly wanted to _be_ useful. He didn’t want to be only coped with, but to be genuinely helpful. He was used to feeling superfluous and tolerated in his job, but rarely valuable. He badly needed his help, and his being there, to _matter_ to Thomas.

The day before Thomas was to be released, Giles was a nervous wreck. He had cooked a little, and stocked the freezer with some of their favorite meals. He’d had the flat cleaned, and had compulsively changed all the linens. He’d bought extra bed pillows for Thomas. He knew it was silly and felt himself a fool, but he needed to do something to pass the time. He read and re-read the hospital’s discharge instructions for Thomas’s care. He would have wound staples for most of another week and some absorbable drain stitches that care had to be taken with, but other than that Thomas just needed time to heal and rest, and should not exert himself to the point that he felt pain.

Checking out and getting Thomas to the car had been nerve-wracking, annoying and scary all at once. He was now solely responsible. The realization was pretty daunting.

“You can take a little detour, no need to drive directly home,” Thomas requested. “I want to breathe fresh air and see sunlight, and trees,” he sighed.

“Nature, coming right up,” Giles grinned, and took them on a slow drive around the residential areas and a couple of wooded parks. Thomas seemed happily relaxed. But after some time he took Giles’s hand and squeezed it a little.

“ _Hase_ , take me home now. I need to be alone with you.” His wistful tone surprised Giles.

Once they were inside the flat, Thomas took him by the hand and led Giles into the bedroom.

“All the days we could not touch, could not comfort each other because there were too many machines and too many strangers in the way,” Thomas sighed. “I needed and you needed, but it didn’t matter, we had to do as we were told, you and I. Now we are alone and no one will stop us. There is nothing to stop us, _Schatz_ ,” he sighed, laying his head on Giles’s shoulder and putting his arms around him.

“That was almost the hardest thing,” Giles agreed, returning the embrace gently, guiding Thomas to sit on the bed. They held and nuzzled each other for a long while before Thomas somewhat shakily began to unbutton Giles’s shirt. Giles took his hand and held it.

“Shhh, I’ll do it, love,” he murmured against Thomas’s neck. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Thomas reached for his belt. “Let me do it,” he repeated, slipping his trousers off, and his briefs. “We’re going to be careful, Thomas,” he cautioned. “Please, do as I ask?” He smiled in relief at Thomas’s grumpy acquiescence. He took Thomas’s shirt off but left on his vest to protect his healing wounds. Then because he knew Thomas would attempt to do it if he didn’t, he removed Thomas’s jeans as well.

When they were naked except for Thomas’s shirt-as-bandage, Giles lowered him gently to the bed and propped him on his back and slightly on his right side with pillows, with as little stress as possible to his injured side. He pulled the duvet over them, and moved into Thomas’s arms.

“Hold me, Thomas,” he murmured. “Hold me close.”

Thomas was only too happy to obey. They both craved the intimacy that trauma had stolen from them. Intimacy they’d taken for granted, but never would again.

Giles was relieved to know that Thomas felt the same, and had missed their physical connection as much as he had. When you love someone with all of yourself, you sometimes wonder if you love them more than they love you. It was a gift to know the answer.

He slipped his hand beneath Thomas’s shirt and lay his palm against the warmth of his belly, softly stroking the fine hair which grew there. Thomas petted and mussed his hair, his thumb kneading the back of Giles’s neck.

“I need nothing more in my life than this, as we are here and now,” Thomas sighed.

“You know it’s the same for me, don’t you? I’ve been so afraid,” Giles admitted. “More afraid than I think I’ve ever been. I couldn’t imagine being without you,” he whispered, stroking Thomas’s neck with his fingertips. “But I was forced to think about it, for the first time. And I was afraid I’d do something, say something wrong, or that I wouldn’t be there when you needed me. If you needed me.”

Thomas tsked, kissing the top of Giles’s head, caressing him.

“ _If_ I needed you? _Mein Engel,_ there is never a time I don’t need you, understand? I know you have doubted yourself - you always begin with that doubt, _Schatz_. But I also know how strong you are, even if you don’t always know it. It’s a frightening experience to think you might lose someone. I have felt you with me always, every minute since I woke. Even when you aren’t in the room, I feel your love. It’s very important, what you give me. Never doubt it, or doubt yourself when it comes to us. No one could have cared for me better,” Thomas assured him.

“ _Vielen Dank, Kuschëlbar,_ ” Giles whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for being the man you are, _Hase_.”

There was nothing more Giles could have articulated just then. All his life one person or another, whether it was his father, his grandfather or a coach, tutor, or instructor, had instilled in him that he must ‘be a man.’ From the beginning, Thomas had taken it for granted that he _was_ a man, and always treated him so. Thomas not only loved him, he respected him.

 

                                                                          ***

 

From that moment, Giles relaxed. His decisions with regard to Thomas were no longer hampered by worry and doubt. He was in charge of Thomas’s recuperation and Thomas was more than content to have it so. He was relieved to relax and let Giles make their decisions until he was back to his full strength

It was a day of celebration when Thomas’s staples were removed. He would still have some tenderness for awhile, but as long as common sense was employed, the end of the road to his recovery was now in sight. They had a long, romantic lunch before they drove home from the doctor’s office. But once home, neither would have denied that after anxious weeks they were eager to be intimate with each other for more than comfort.

After restraining themselves for so long, there was happiness simply in the knowledge that the caution was lifted and they could allow themselves to desire again, and to do something about it. Nothing strenuous would be on the menu for awhile yet, but that didn’t dampen their spirits.

They pleasured each other in languid tenderness, drifting rather than rushing towards the release which was as much about freedom from worry as it was about the long-missed satisfaction. That which had torn their lives apart was nearly mended and they were free to be themselves again - which was, for Giles, something tested sooner than he’d anticipated.

It was going to be back to work for both of them - Thomas in another couple of weeks, Giles after the weekend. They had invited Sgt Hornsby to stop by on Friday, and the invitation was extended to Sgt Major Burns as well. They had got in a case of beer and some ingredients for sandwiches, and there would be a highly anticipated football match on satellite.

Giles still wasn’t sure how he felt about Burns knowing so much of his personal life, but he had to admit he’d been supportive and generous since Thomas had been shot. There was no reason not to have him there other than his own innate wish for privacy and his knowledge that Burns could make things difficult for any of his team if he chose to. Thomas, he knew, had never minded the SIB group knowing about them.

More than a week earlier, when it was first thought that they might drop in, the agreement had been made that they were just to walk in when they arrived. The door would be unlocked in case Giles was tending to Thomas or he was out for a few minutes while Thomas was napping.

As it happened, they were on the sofa after lunch watching a less exciting match prior to the main event, and they both fell asleep. When Hornsby and Burns walked in, they found Giles sitting at one end of the sofa with his feet propped on a cushion on the coffee table. Thomas was stretched out with his head in Giles’s lap, his fingers intertwined with Giles’s, their hands resting together on Thomas’s chest.

As they walked in as agreed, Hornsby held up a finger to indicate quiet. A romantic at heart, he smiled at the sight of the two so clearly at home together in an ‘awww’ moment. He would always be happy for any of his mates to have what he and Angie had.

Burns felt as if he’d intruded on a private moment, but he couldn’t look away. Both men looked so peaceful. Hornsby put a hand on Vicary’s shoulder to wake him. He started slightly and so then did Strauss.

“Slow, remember,” Vicary cautioned. He put a hand out to keep Strauss from rising too quickly. He extricated himself and stood, then helped his partner to sit up. It was completely unselfconscious, loving and intimate, a very different side to his quiet leftenant than Burns might ever have seen without Strauss’s near-miss.

“Sar’ Major, Sar’ Hornsby - please, come in and sit,” Vicary invited, looking Burns in the eye without hesitation. “It was a bit of a busy morning, and the game was so dull we both nodded off. Let’s hope the big game is more exciting.”

Strauss stood, reaching up for Vicary’s arm to help him. He rested his own arm around Vicary’s waist. “Welcome, gentlemen. As you see, my guardian angel has been well looking after me and I’m almost back to normal, if not quite. What can we get you to drink?” He hugged Vicary’s waist once and then moved off into the kitchen.

Some thing struck Giles then that he hadn’t realized before. He knew Thomas spoke near-perfect English of course, as he had just now. But when they were together in their private moments, all of Thomas’s endearments to him were in German, and he had picked up the habit as well. It had become a sort of private lovespeak between them. Perhaps his using the English word angel instead of _Engel_ as he had taken to calling Giles lately, and his more formal speech, was a reminder to both of them not to do it while others were present. They had joked, after all, that if inebriated enough they might do it anyway. But definitely not today.

Much later, after a good match had been shouted over and cheered, many beers drunk and much food consumed, their company had left and they were tidying up in the kitchen.

“That went well, don’t you think?” Thomas asked from behind, his arms around Giles, who happily leaned back into the embrace. Thomas began nuzzling his neck, nipping and nosing gently, kissing his ear.

“Yes, I do think so,” he agreed. He knew he would never again have the same fear of his colleagues, or his friends and family back home knowing about Thomas. That part of him was fading faster than he would have believed a year ago. “And you didn’t call me your _geile Hase, Kuschelbär,_ ” he sniggered.

“ _Mein Liebste. Mein Schatz,_ ” Thomas continued, purring in his ear.

“ _Mein Herz_.” Giles’s voice was soft.

“ _Mein Gott, ich liebe dich_ Thomas,” he sighed, turning in his embrace. “Time for _Liebe machen, ja_?” he asked, softly pressing his lips to where Thomas’s carotid artery pulsed strongly.

 _Bumsen_?” Thomas chuckled, wickedly expanding Giles’s vocabulary

“ _Ja_ ,” Giles breathed, leaning hard against him.

“No dishes tonight. _Dessert. Viel dessert_ ,” Thomas hummed in his ear, licking it.

“Now?” Giles asked hopefully.

“ _Ja_ ,” Thomas returned with a grin, reaching to the wall to turn off the light.

 

  
                                                                                  ***

 

It was Giles’s first day back to SIB in the better part of two months. If he was no longer anxious about Sar’ Major Burns, he still had some butterflies about most of his colleagues and what they knew or guessed, or thought about him. He walked in and was given a hand squeeze and a quick peck on the cheek by Angie before anyone else was around. As he made his way to his desk, others greeted him one by one with varying degrees of warmth. Once he’d sat down, he busied himself catching up on the current investigation via the file that had been left for him.

When Sar’ Major Burns came in for the morning briefing, he welcomed Giles back, saying nothing about why he’d been gone other than that it was good to have him back from his leave. He saw SS Frost’s speculative glance, could sense her eagerness to pick and probe and worry Vicary until she drove him to behavior he’d regret.

Well. If he’d let his command of the group slide the past several months, it didn’t have to keep on that way. He needed to once again claim leadership by example, and acknowledge by his respect qualities and abilities he admired in his people. He was aware that if he showed such respect, others would be forced to follow whether they liked it or not and eventually that respect and sense of value would become second nature within the group. It was time.

“Mr Vicary - you and Mr Roper need to reinterview Cpl McAnally. See if you can shake him, or get him to change his story. We need to break that alibi.” Frost’s eyebrows raised slightly at Vicary being sent out into the field to do meaningful investigational work - and with fair-haired Hippie. Burns mentally stomped hard on a grin. Vicary could learn a lot by watching Roper - and Burns knew that he was smart enough to watch for awhile until he became more comfortable in the field. Roper, who never suffered fools, would be an excellent teacher once they got used to each other - and he wouldn’t play games. This, Burns hoped, was the first step in giving Vicary confidence, and letting him feel good about his own command again.

Giles had to struggle to keep his jaw from figuratively dropping at Burns’s orders. After all he’d been through, as hard as it had been, Thomas not only relied on and believed in him, but Burns was giving him a genuine chance to prove himself. He would never have wanted the fright that almost losing Thomas had given him, and would gladly have changed places with him or given his own life. But it seemed there was a benefit to navigating through what had to be done, and learning to endure the bad patches. It was, he supposed, growing up. He could do that. He was sure of it now.

  
Bitte - please  
Bumsen - fuck  
Danke, dank - thank you  
Engel - angel  
Ich liebe dich so sehr, Thomas. Dein Hase ist hier  
\- I love you so much. Your bunny is here.

geile Hase - horny bunny

Gute Nacht, Hase. Suße Träume  
\- Good night, bunny. Sweet dreams.

Hase - bunny  
Herz - heart  
Ich brauche dich - I need you  
Ich liebe dich - I love you  
Kuschelbär - cuddly bear  
Kuss mich - kiss me  
liebe, lieber, liebling - dear, sweet(ie), -ing - diminutive; Liebste - dearest  
Liebe machen - make love  
Mein/meine - my  
schätz(i)- treasure, -chen - diminutive  
suße,Sußer - sweet  
Viel - a lot of  
Vielen Dank - than you very much


End file.
